In moments, the silence became heavy, weighted with Caitlin’s own disappointment that he hadn’t had more time to learn about the search and rescue work Doc Coates told her about. To break it, she asked, “Last-minute shoppers?”
Holt glanced at her, then back at the road. “What?”
“All the cars, all of a sudden. I’m wondering if they’re all last-minute shoppers. Christmas is coming, ye ken.”
“Oh. Maybe.”
“No, really. Christmas is coming,” she replied and waited for a reaction to her jest.
Holt glanced aside at her, then back at the road.
Disappointed that stone-faced Holt was back, she cast about for something to say. “Of course,” she added after checking the analog clock on the dashboard, “it is nearly lunchtime. Everyone could be on the way to their favorite takeaway.”
“Takeaway?”
“Um, where ye pick up food and take it back to the office.”
“Take-out. Or carry-out,” he said with more animation. “Or a fast food place. Burgers, pizza, fried chicken.” Holt glanced at her then back at the road.
He seemed more relaxed now that they were away from the vet’s office. She liked it when he became more open, more talkative, and wanted him to stay that way. “Another thing that’s simpler in Scotland,” she told him. “Takeaway. Done. Usually Indian, or fish and chips.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I wasn’t, but then I mentioned fish and chips— not that I expect you’ll have anything like good Scottish fish and chips here.”
Holt quirked an eyebrow. “You might be surprised. Mrs. Smith suggested a seafood place with the best lobster rolls on the island. Fish and chips, too, I’ll bet.”
“Really?” Caitlin’s stomach growled.
“There’s my answer.” Holt turned at the next cross street and headed out of town, at right angles to the road back to the estate. “Don’t worry, it’s just far enough to let your appetite develop.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Holt Ridley?” Caitlin muttered under her breath, happy to see him unwind.
In moments, the village gave way to forest-lined streets, then to a wider, faster highway, and the trees changed from the mix of hardwoods and pines in the area surrounding the village and the estate to short pines. In the suddenly sandy-looking soil, the trees grew sparse and spindly. Caitlin got glimpses of water through breaks in the trees. “There’s nothing out here. Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“Have a little faith,” Holt replied, a quirk on his full lips.
Caitlin eyed him in disbelief. He’d almost smiled. She could get used to seeing him smile. And laugh, she thought, recalling the day she’d cut her foot. For the most part, those expressions had been un-Holt-like. Maybe this meant he was warming to her. Heartened, she turned back to take in the view, which was becoming more and more beachy. Suddenly buildings appeared, and after a few whizzed by, Holt slowed and turned the car into a car park. Until he stopped the car, the tires crunched on the white shell fragments that covered the sandy ground.
“Watch your step,” Holt advised as he got out. “Let me know if your foot hurts.”
Caitlin exited the car to tinny Christmas music from the restaurant’s outdoor speakers. She took a few tentative steps, feeling the shells shift beneath her feet.
Holt came around the bonnet and put a hand on the small of her back.
Was he going to pull her into his arms and carry her to the door?
“The oyster shells rock a bit if they’re not dug into the sand, but you’ll get the hang of it.” He turned her and walked beside her toward the building.
“Everyone does, it seems,” Caitlin remarked, glancing around at the nearly full car park to avoid looking at Holt. She kicked herself for sounding whiney instead of droll, but she deserved congratulations for being capable of speech. Her face had to be red in response to the heat radiating from Holt’s hand on her back. She hadn’t expected his touch, but even less, her immediate, overpowering reaction to it— her desire for him to take her in his arms. She’d nearly turned into him and burrowed into his embrace like a child. That rescue on the beach made her sensitive to his touch. She wanted more. A bad idea, that. And not just because the car park was dotted here and there with people coming and going. Holt was too near, too warm, and his grip was too firm as he encouraged her toward their destination. It reinforced the impression his trim, but muscular physique had given her when they first met, even more so as he carried her to the house from the beach and moved around the kitchen with wet clothes sticking to his body. His hand on her lower back now made her even more curious about what delights he kept hidden under that buttoned-up exterior.
“You’re doing fine,” Holt encouraged her after a minute, releasing her to open a screen door and gesture her through.
He had no idea. Fine didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling. Other than being glad to be back on a smooth surface, even if it was only stained concrete, Caitlin regretted Holt no longer needed to steady her. Or so she thought. His touch had done something to her equilibrium. Or maybe it was just low blood sugar. While Holt arranged for a table with the lass at the reception desk, Caitlin took deep breaths to restore herself. Mouthwatering scents filled her nose.
Before her stomach could growl loudly enough to embarrass her, Holt beckoned for her to follow the hostess to their table, then handed her into her seat. The hostess left them each a lengthy menu and the promise that their server would be right with them.
“Lobster rolls, ye say? I’ve never heard of them,” Caitlin said as they picked up their menus. She glanced down its contents until she spotted what she wanted.
